Mike Chang for Prom Queen
by cruiscin lan
Summary: A practical joke at prom goes too far, but Mike and Tina know how to play it off. Also featuring Principal Figgins and Howard Bamboo POV.


Looking back, you wish you had never taken this gig. But you did like being in Acafellas and you really do like music a lot, so you really thought you'd be a good DJ. The equipment was, well, really expensive, so you had to start picking up extra shifts at Sheets 'N Things, and in fact you had been working right up until it was time to set up for the McKinley High prom, so you were still in your khakis and polo and you felt a little out of place among the students and chaperones, dressed to the nines.  

On top of that, though, there is almost _no one_ dancing. They've already had dinner, and it's nearly time for the king and queen announcements, but for some reason most of the student body clings to the walls or hovers at the edge of the parquet floor or waits in line for photos. The only two people on the floor are that one wheelchair kid, who is popping wheelies and spinning skillfully, and his date, a perky Goth girl you recognize because you one time gave her Vitamin D.  

It _had_ been awfully kind of Principal Figgins to hire you in spite of that one slip-up. The way to that man's heart was through his budget, though, and since you were just getting started in the business your quote was half that of any other DJ in Lima. Speaking of Principal Figgins, here he comes now, with two gaudy crowns on a gaudy cushion and an envelope under his arms. "Turn that music down," he tells you. "It's time for the king and queen ceremony."  

You fumble with some dials and knobs for a few moments (you're still getting the hang of this, and you're not sure what all this stuff does yet) and eventually you get the tunes to stop and Principal Figgins hands you the cushion and takes the mike to make an announcement.  "Students, students, students," he begins. "Your attention please. Gather round, it is time to reveal who you have elected to be the prom king and queen." He reaches into the envelope and unfolds the paper within, reading stiltedly.

"And your prom king and queen are...."  It's silent for a moment while Figgins furrows his brow and tilts his head, unsure of what exactly he's looking at. You watch the students for a second; there's some chattering, some whispering, and particularly among those you recognize as jocks and football players, there's some joshing one another with elbows and exchanges of knowing glances.  

"...Asian and other Asian?"  

The student body erupts in laughter, and Figgins realizes with dismay that he read out loud without meaning to. As much as he tries to calm them down again, he's lost, and he hands the microphone back to you and whispers "_Do_ something, Bamboo." You're not sure what exactly you _can_ do, but you're racking your brain trying to think of something when you see a lanky Asian kid leap up onto the dais, with the wheelchair kid's date in tow. They look at each other knowingly as they come towards you.  

"Okay, seriously," the boy says as he snatches the microphone from your hand. When he turns to face the other students, there's a screech of feedback as the mike passes by the speakers, and the whole banquet center gets quiet. "There's more than two Asians at this fucking Podunk school."  

"Chillax, Chang, it was a joke," the kid with the mohawk shouts back.  But Chang isn't going to chillax, you can tell. Instead he clenches the microphone harder and practically growls, "It wasn't funny the first time. You're being fucking insensitive."  

"Aw, I think we've hurt his _dericate feerings_," another jock calls out. "When did you turn into such a chick, Chang?"  

Someone else suddenly interjects: "Mike Chang for prom queen!" There's another surge of laughter from the crowd. Encouraged, some adopt the phrase as a chant, and before long, the entire room is reverberating with the words "Mike Chang for prom queen!" being shouted over and over and over again.  

Figgins rolls his eyes and looks to the ceiling in exasperation. You scan the room to see if any of the chaperones are going to do anything, but both Mr. Schuester and the red-headed guidance counselor have disappeared, and the cheerleading coach is watching the action unfold with a wicked grin on her face. You wonder if, perhaps, there is something _you_ should do, your heart is pounding in your ears and while you're trying to think, the Goth girl's turned to Mike with something to say.  

"Might as well give them what they want," she tells him earnestly.  

"What do you mean?"  

She glances at the crowd for a moment; some of the students have started to pump their fists in the air. She turns back to Chang and tries to explain. "Like, when we did 'Push It,' for the student assembly, we were really scared to perform but we gave it all we had and they loved it. Or like when you guys did 'Single Ladies' for the football game, and you were really embarrassed to do it, but you won your first game, like, ever."  

An expression of understanding lights up Mike's face. "So what you're saying is..."  

"Mike Chang for prom queen," she replies, smiling. She turns to you and picks up the sparklier, more delicate crown from the cushion. It's obviously meant for a girl, since the whole thing is made almost exclusively out of rhinestones, but Mike lowers his head for the girl to place it on his head.  He smiles at her as he takes the remaining crown and lifts it above the girl's head.

"Tina for prom _king_, then," he tells her, and while she curtsies he sets it gently on her complicated hairstyle. They turn to the crowd and give them exaggerated pageant-waves. Somehow, miraculously, the jeering has turned into _cheering_, and Mike looks over his shoulder at you and asks "Hey, DJ, can you play a hot track for us?"  

Your palms are sweaty from second-hand nervousness, and you're holding a CD with "Macarena" in one hand and "The Hokey Pokey." While you hesitate, though, Tina moves in beside you and starts fiddling with your equipment - no, not like _that_, your DJ equipment! - and soon enough there's a karaoke Lady Gaga track playing and Mike Chang slides back down onto the dance floor like he was born to be there.  As Tina takes the microphone and waits a few measures, the student body is edging away to the borders of the parquet floor to give Mike some room. When Tina starts singing, Mike pops and locks and rocks your socks. He moves so fluidly you'd swear he's not human. He dominates the dance floor, and everyone, even Figgins, is mesmerized.  

As Tina hits the last note, the student body breaks out in applause, and the mohawk kid walks over and offers his hand to Mike. They shake as Tina steps down from the dais, where her date waits for her, smitten.  You're not sure how to follow an act like that, so you just pop in the "Macarena" disc and soon enough there's dancing and laughter all around and, for the first time all evening, you're able to breathe a sigh of relief.  

That is, until Figgins taps you on the shoulder. "Available for homecoming?" he asks.


End file.
